


Good Books

by Anonymous



Series: Forbidden Kinks [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Farting, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Platonic Cuddling, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When he pulls back, he sees that Scott has started crying again, but there’s a new look to his face. Stiles recognizes it from something he saw on TV, even though he’s never seen that look on Scott’s face before. He can deduce quite easily that Scott is angry with him.
~~
Five times where Scott farts on Stiles when he's mad at him, and one time when they do it just for the sake of it.





	Good Books

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I really have no idea where this idea came from. But, well, here it is and I really like it so I hope you guys will too!

1.

 

Scott and Stiles have their first fight at the age of 7.

 

When asked what had started the fight, neither boy could tell you; Scott thinks it might have had something to do with a broken toy, and Stiles will spit something out about a ruined drawing, but at the end of the day, the fact is this: Scott is not talking to Stiles.

 

It takes only one hour for Claudia Stilinski to have had enough of her sulking boy before he forces him to man up and marches him around the block to the McCall household. When Melissa answers the door, she gives Claudia a knowing look, and directs Stiles upstairs to Scott’s room to apologize.

 

The walk up the steps feels like a death march to Stiles; in the way that kids are often overdramatic, he’s sure that Scott will never want to be his friend again.

 

When he eventually makes it to the familiar brown door, he almost books it. He makes it as far as the top of the stairs before he remember that both his and Scott’s mom are waiting downstairs for him, and he gulps at the thought of returning to them without having done anything. Breathing roughly in, he makes himself turn around and head back to Scott’s room.

 

His knock is timid, and probably not loud enough, but still he hears as Scott fumbles his way towards the door. It takes only a second after the door opens for him to notice how red his friend’s eyes are.

 

While Stiles had been sulking, and had certainly been sad, he hadn’t actually been crying. It definitely seemed like Scott had though.

 

Stiles practically falls into his friend as he grabs him in a hug. He starts babbling things right away, not even paying attention to the words leaving his mouth. He’s sure he’s said sorry about a hundred times by the time he registers that Scott isn’t hugging him back.

 

When he pulls back, he sees that Scott has started crying again, but there’s a new look to his face. Stiles recognizes it from something he saw on TV, even though he’s never seen that look on Scott’s face before. He can deduce quite easily that Scott is angry with him.

 

Feeling his lip start to tremble, Stiles finally takes a moment to think about his words, and comes up with something he had also seen on TV. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you,” he says earnestly. “Anything you want.”

 

Scott sniffles as he eyes him, and even though it’s not a very menacing look with the tears, it still settles in Stiles’ stomach the wrong way. His voice was rough from crying when he spoke. “Anything?”

 

Stiles nodded his head up and down wildly, widening his eyes for emphasis. “And it’ll have to be something really bad, too; I think I deserve it. You’re crying.”

 

“No I’m not,” Scott said petulantly, scrunching his face up as he brought a fist up to dry his face. He totally was, but Stiles decided part of making up for it would be to not bring it up again. “Fine. Let’s play toys while I think of something.”

 

Twenty minutes of playing with Scott’s dinosaur collection later, Scott suddenly stands up and comes to stand in front of Stiles. Jarred out of his concentration on the scene they had been acting out, Stiles blinks up at him in confusion, it only growing when Scott turns around so he isn’t facing him.

 

Stiles knows Scott farts a lot. It had been a topic of discussion amongst the two boys for a long time; Melissa cooks with a lot of spices, and so the boys had spent many a time giggling over the sounds and smells that left Scott’s butt after dinner. The smell was awful, of course – all farts were. But they were funny in a way that only young boys could laugh about.

 

Even so, it comes as a shock when Scott suddenly farts, his butt having been right in front of Stiles’ face. In his surprise, he can’t help but breathe it in. The smell is just as awful as Scott’s farts always were, and he starts coughing slightly right away.

 

As he does so, he can hear his friend laughing above him, and Scott makes his way away from him. “That was the only bad thing I could think of,” he said between giggles.

 

Still trying to breathe in some fresh air and clear the fart away from him, Stiles smiles slightly. “So we’re friends?”

 

Scott nods, turning back to the dinosaurs, still giggling. Joining in on the giggles now, Stiles also picks up his triceratops again, and the scene continues.

 

When Stiles goes back downstairs an hour later, Scott following close behind him, the two mothers who had been waiting look at them and smile as they see their happy faces. The boys never tell them how they got over it – all that matters was that they were still friends.

 

2.

 

The second time doesn’t come for a number of years, when they’re both 12 and just starting puberty. After all, it was really only meant to be a one-time thing, a sort of joke that Scott had thought of to break the tension. And they haven’t had a fight since – at least, not to that extent. They’ve had a few squabbles here and there, but nothing serious.

 

But Scott is growing into himself faster than Stiles is. While Stiles just grows taller, Scott actually begins to fill out a little bit – earlier than perhaps a kid of his age should be, but still. Girls are also at that age where they begin noticing boys as more than friends, and Scott is definitely starting to get that attention. Along with this attention comes a certain level of popularity.

 

Jackson Whittemore, who had been the first boy to have his voice start breaking, started hanging around Scott more, trying to soak up any attention he got for himself. Even though he knows that Stiles doesn’t like Jackson, Scott never says anything about the boy hanging around. It all comes to a head one day, on Scott’s birthday, when Stiles gets mad at Scott inviting Jackson and a few others over to his house for his party.

 

Scott and Stiles had only ever had each other to celebrate birthdays with. Well, each other and their families, of course. So for Scott to have foregone their usual traditions to have an actual party was basically unthinkable.

 

Stiles makes his displeasure at the situation very well known all day, until eventually, Scott gets angry enough at him to actually uninvite him. Startled by the idea, Stiles had turned his nose up and gotten onto the bus, sitting as far away from their usual seat together as possible.

 

When his dad comes up to his room at four thirty to let him know it’s time to leave, Stiles tells him that he’s not going, and that him and Scott are no longer friends. Having just lost Claudia half a year before, John doesn’t quite know how to deal with this new issue. He’d been kind of existing in an in-between state since the loss of his wife, and she had always been the one to deal with the two boys and their (very rare) issues with each other. He stands in the doorway to his son’s room for quite a few minutes, unsure of how to deal with it.

 

Finally, he just says, “let me know if you change your mind” before heading back down the stairs and into the living room.

 

The party was only a short one – after all, they’re still quite young, and there was school tomorrow – so Stiles is quite aware when it starts and when time goes on until eventually it’s eight o’clock, and he knows that everybody else is most likely on their way home. The whole time, he was waiting to hear the telltale sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen, waiting for Scott to give in and call him to tell him that he took it back, that he wasn’t uninvited, but that phone call never came.

 

Instead, it’s Stiles who goes rushing downstairs at shortly after eight and yells out to his dad that he’ll be back in a bit, that he needs to get to Scott’s. John doesn’t stop him as he runs out, having expected such a thing to happen all night, and instead just chuckles.

 

The walk to Scott’s house doesn’t take very long with Stiles nearly sprinting the whole way, and soon enough he’s panting on the McCall’s front porch, waiting very impatiently after having rung the doorbell.

 

Melissa answers the door, of course, like a parallel to the event that had been so similar when they were younger. This time, though, there’s no Claudia who’ll be waiting for Stiles when he’s done fixing his mistakes.

 

He’s never needed his mother back more than in that moment, but he doesn’t have very much time to think about it. Melissa ushers him in like before, and this time he’s not hesitant at all as he runs up the stairs and bursts into Scott’s room.

 

Scott certainly wasn’t crying this time, he notices right away. His friend’s face is clear of any sign of tears. If he had cried, it had been hours again. In fact, Scott seems calm, and happy; it’s clear to Stiles that despite his absence, Scott had clearly had fun at the party. The thought is almost enough to make Stiles cry.

 

“Can we be friends again?” is all Stiles manages to get out as he holds back his tears.

 

Scott crosses his arms and glares at him. “I don’t really think you deserve to be my friend, considering how you treat my other ones.”

 

“Come on, man, I’m your _best_ friend! You know I’d do anything for you.”

 

It’s almost like it’s that word – _anything_ – that sparks something in Scott. Suddenly, his friend isn’t glaring anymore, but is instead smirking. It’s a rather mean look, and one Stiles doesn’t much like seeing. “Well, I guess if you’ll do _anything_ , there’s only one way to solve this. My mom made chili tonight, and I can already feel it working.”

 

It takes a second for Stiles to get it, but when he does, he kind of just stands there dumbly and blinks. “You want to fart on me?”

 

“You said you’d do anything,” Scott reminded him. “It’s solved our issues before.”

 

Debating with himself, Stiles knows he’s really just fooling himself. He really _would_ do anything to make sure that when he left to go home that night, Scott wasn’t mad at him anymore. If it took something like this to achieve that, then he’d just have to suck it up. Sighing, he gave in without words, just nodding once.

 

“Jackson got me some comic books,” Scott said then. “I’m gonna lay down and read them, and you can just be behind me, I guess.”

 

Scott ends up lying down across his bed on his stomach, and Stiles hesitates before he joins him, ending up bent over on his hands and knees beside his friend, staring down uncertainly at the butt in front of him.

 

“Come on, man,” Scott says, wriggling slightly. “It’s about to start!”

 

Taking in one last breath, Stiles reluctantly moves his head down until it’s just above his friend’s butt. The farting starts soon after that, and Stiles dutifully breathes them all in.

 

When Melissa calls up an hour later, saying that it’s time for Stiles to go home, Scott hugs him on his way out and Stiles knows they’re cool again.

 

3.

 

Freshman year of high school, they both join the lacrosse team. Even though he has severe asthma, and has never played a game of lacrosse in his life, it turns out Scott is something of a natural talent. He makes first line easily, leaving Stiles to warm the bench on his own.

 

But Stiles isn’t jealous; he knows he sucks. He really only joined the team because Scott had wanted to, and they do everything together.

 

But it just so happens that when the first big game comes around, three first line players are out sick. Everybody but the first line sucks, and coach knows it. Some of the players on the second line are out sick, too, and so by some bizarre turn of events, Stiles finds himself standing out on the field.

 

Scott isn’t too far away, and he keeps giving Stiles these looks, as if begging him to somehow forget that he sucks at this game and pull out a whole whack of talent from nowhere. Stiles knows that Scott really, _really_ wants to win this game; he’s the only freshman on first line, and he needs to prove himself to the other, older players.

 

Breathing harshly, Stiles stands sternly and vows to play as well as he possibly can. He promises that he won’t mess this up for Scott.

 

So, of course, he does.

 

It’s all kind of a blur to him, but he knows it’s mostly all his fault. He’d rammed into his own teammates, passed the ball to the other team on accident in a stunning show of incoordination, and had even scored on their own goal once. He’d all but won the game for the other team.

 

Everybody was angry with him – the amount of glares he was getting from the other teammates, even Greenberg, were enough to bury him at least 20 feet under ground. As coach berated him in front of everybody, he found himself thinking that 20 feet deep wouldn’t be such a bad place to be. The only consolation he could find is that at least his dad had been too busy with work to come and see him fail.

 

But Scott, well, Scott wasn’t like the others. Sure, he was angry, and he kept glaring over at Stiles just like all of the others were. But while they were yelling at him as they changed in the locker room, Scott was silent. Tense, his hands clenched into fists. But worst of all, Stiles could see something else in the draw of his face: disappointment.

 

Stiles only had two people in his life that he would do anything for. Once upon a time that number had been three, but now she was resting cold and lifeless in a cemetery across town. So it came down to his dad, and Scott. He didn’t really care about anybody else; as long as he had those two, he knew he’d be okay.

 

So having to face the fact that he had let down Scott so much was a hard one. His hands were shaking slightly as he removed his padding and jersey, and a tight, sick feeling pulsed through his stomach as he watched Scott do nothing but stare angrily towards his locker beside him.

 

Eventually, everybody else ran out of wind, and they all changed and left in a hurry. Stiles was just finished getting dressed back into his normal clothes when Scott finally tugged open his locker. The hinges were slightly rusty, and with how quickly he opened it, it made a grating sound. Stiles winced, but Scott didn’t seem to react at all, beyond clenching his fists tighter.

 

Just when he thought he might throw up from the anxiety, a light bulb went of in Stiles’ head. He spit out his idea before he had a chance to think about it, nerves taking over. “Want to go pick up some burritos and then we can game while you, uh, get ready?”

 

There was an eerie moment of silence, and Stiles started to think he’d said the wrong thing. They hadn’t done that since they were kids – it was such a juvenile thing, farting in your friend’s face to get back at them. But he doesn’t have much more time than that to work himself into another panic.

 

“You’ll stay the night under the covers, too,” Scott says decisively, and okay, that’s new. But Stiles nearly sighs in relief, glad that he at least has a chance to make up for this.

 

An hour and a half later, after Scott has scarfed down 6 burritos while Stiles had contented himself with just some cereal Scott had in the house, the boys find themselves in a vaguely familiar position. Scott isn’t tired enough to go to bed just yet, so he’d sitting on the edge of his bed whilst Stiles lies down across the bed. Stiles had his face pressed up pretty close to his friend’s ass – close enough that he could feel the material of Scott’s sweatpants over his nose, but not close enough to be squished against it. This would be more than close enough.

 

Scott had felt the warning signs of his gas a few minutes prior and had told Stiles to get behind him. There’s only a moment or two after he settles down before he hears the first sound from in front of him, and as the tip of his nose grows warm with the air from inside of Scott hitting it, he closes his eyes and settles down to spend the next however-long breathing in nothing but his friend’s farts.

 

It ends up being another hour – filled with deadly, near-silent farts, a few of which nearly make Stiles lose the pot – before Scott’s ready for bed. They both crawl under the covers, and Scott pushes him down non-too-gently until Stiles finds himself curled up behind him, his face just as close to Scott’s ass as it has been before. Trapped under the covers, he has even less of a chance to escape the smell, and it’s a long while before he manages to get used to the smell enough to sleep.

 

When he wakes up in the morning, he notices Scott has already gotten up, and it takes only a moment to figure out that he’s in the bathroom. He can hear his friend relieving himself even with the door closed – burritos do a little more to him than give him rough gas.

 

When Scott eventually rejoins him in his bedroom, he has a slight smile on his face as he sees Stiles poking his head out from the blanket. Stiles wants to smile back right away, but he has to verify it first. “So are we alright now?”

 

Scott just laughs loudly, tackling Stiles onto the bed and beginning to tickle him. As Stiles falls into another thing they did when they were children, he knows the answer to his question is a positive one.

 

4.

 

The fourth time it happens isn’t because Scott is mad at Stiles, it’s more because he’s mad at the world.

 

They’re sophomores now, and it’s been over a year since the disastrous lacrosse game. Ever since, Stiles has been a permanent resident on the bench, with nobody wanting to risk him blowing it for them again. Still, there were a few rough games that had tempted Stiles to offer himself up afterwards, but seeing as how they weren’t his fault, he eventually manned up and allowed Scott to deal with the disappointment on his own.

 

This case was a little different, though. This year, there was a new girl at school – Allison Argent. Scott had fallen for her in a record 5.3 seconds, by Stiles’ calculations. And really, it would be hard not to fall for those eyes or those dimples, but how quickly it had happened seemed a little ridiculous, even to Stiles, who had nurtured a plane sized crush on Lydia Martin for over a decade, despite her never having even spoken to him.

 

Even though he’d fallen for her almost immediately, though, it had taken weeks for Scott to work up the courage to ask her out. And when the day for him to do so had finally come, he ended up getting stopped during every attempt.

 

First, some freshman had stumbled into him when he was heading to meet Allison at her locker. Scott hadn’t been carrying everything, but when the younger boy had spilled a load of books all over the place, he didn’t have it in himself to walk away. Helping him pick up everything wasted a good precious minute, and by the time he made it to her locker, it was just in time to see her turning around the corner.

 

During their first class together, the teacher had decided to hand out a pop quiz that took the entire length of the class, and so Scott had no chance to get a word out to Allison the whole period.

 

The next time he tried was at lunch, but while he hoped to get a chance with Allison alone, he was just a few seconds to late as he watched Jackson, Lydia, and Danny all take seats with her. Not having enough courage to ask her out in front of all of them, he simply turned around and joined Stiles at their usual table.

 

And finally, the last time he made an attempt was at the end of the day, and it actually was Stiles who messed it up. Distracting Scott with making plans for that afternoon, Scott didn’t realize that he wasn’t looking towards the parking lot until he noticed Allison’s car leave. Sighing in defeat, he knew it would be a little while before he got up the courage to try and ask again.

 

Stiles, on his part, instantly noticed his friend’s bad mood. “What’s up, buttercup?” he asked jovially, before losing the smile when he noticed that only made Scott’s mood worse. “No, seriously, what’s the matter? You were so excited earlier today.”

 

“I was going to finally ask Allison out today,” Scott muttered back. “But everything kept getting in the way. That freshman, Jackson, _you_.”

 

“Me? What do you mean me?”

 

“You distracted me right when I was going to ask her out!” Scott exclaimed, motioning with his hands between where they were standing and where Allison had been parked. “I completely missed her before she got in her car.”

 

“Oh,” Stiles said brilliantly, worrying his lip slightly. “Well, you can’t actually be mad at me for that. You didn’t tell me you were trying to ask her out!”

 

“I didn’t want anybody overhearing me,” Scott explained. “And no, I’m not really mad _at_ you, just mad _because_ of you.”

 

“Okay, that’s just as bad as you actually being mad at me. A few rounds of Mario Party and we’ll call it even?”

 

Scott shrugged. “I’m not feeling much like gaming, or hanging out at all. I think I’ll just head home alone.”

 

“Come on, man, you’ll bounce back from this! You can’t just sit in your room and mope all night.”

 

Sighing, Scott turned towards him and met his eyes. “Yes, actually, I can. And my mom even made gorditas last night, so I plan on sulking and stuffing my face with leftovers at the same time.”

 

“Man, your mom’s gorditas are amazing,” Stiles said wistfully. “You can’t make me miss out on those, now that you’ve mentioned them.”

 

“I can, and I _will_. Besides, you know what Mexican food does to me. I don’t really need anyone around for that.”

 

Stiles bit his lip, then, and the out of place action was enough for Scott to halt in his movements to being walking home. “Uh, what if I did come over. You know, _for_ that. It’d make you feel better, right?”

 

Scott furrowed his brows, thinking on what Stiles could possibly mean, before his face broke out in a smile as he got it. “Do you think that’ll solve all of our problems?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “It’s worked before. Come on, man, I’m sorry I got in your way. Granted, I still say it’s not really my fault, but whatever, I’ll take the blame.”

 

Shaking his head, still smiling, Scott gave in. “Fine, you can come over and get under the covers with me for a little while. _Then_ we’ll game, and _then_ you’ll leave so I can sulk.”

 

“That, Scotty, sounds like a much better plan. Eliminates at least four hours where you won’t be moping.”

 

Scott ended up keeping Stiles underneath the covers while he curled up and watched a movie for more than four hours, passing gas every few minutes or so. Stiles was right – it was a much better plan.

 

5.

 

The last time they really do it is just a short time, right before the PSATs. Stiles had promised to help Scott review some last minute things the night before, but had fallen asleep almost immediately after school, and as a result had missed the eleven texts his friend had sent him. Stiles had been more than prepared for the exam, and so his falling asleep had really only affected Scott.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Scott,” he says while he drives the two of them to school, trying to calm his friend down. “You’ve been studying for weeks. Sure, it might have helped to have reviewed a little more last night, but you’ve got this, man. You’ll do fine.”

 

He knows, though, that his words aren’t having any effect. He also knows that if Scott is upset with him when the exam starts, then he won’t be able to concentrate on his own exam, too worried about if Scott was really mad at him or if he’d get over it.

 

It was almost always the latter, but it didn’t stop him worrying about it.

 

It seemed, though, that Stiles didn’t have to be concerned about it at all; Scott already had a solution. Or at least, it seemed that way by how he practically dragged Stiles into the school, heading towards the locker room. Stiles knew by the tight grip the slightly younger boy had on his shirtsleeve that it was best to remain silent.

 

He’s pushed into the locker room before Scott, and is just regaining his balance when he registers that the door is being locked behind them. Turning to look at his friend in confusion, but seeing him doing nothing but looking sternly at him, Stiles sighs and goes to sit on one of the benches, settling himself in for a slight rant about what a bad friend he his.

 

Fidgeting with his fingers in the silence, waiting for Scott to say something, he jerks out of it when he registers feet on the ground in front of him. Feet facing away from him, actually. Jerking his head up, he clicks onto what’s about to happen as soon as he takes in Scott’s ass, now mere centimeters away from his face.

 

Melissa must have made Scott one of his favourite meals for good luck the night before; the fart that rips out of Scott is more than deadly, and Stiles actually feels his eyes watering at the potency of it. He desperately wants to move backwards a bit, get some more room between him and the source of it, but as if he’s read his mind _Scott_ actually moves back more, moving so that Stiles’ face is firmly against it. Even though he’s not being held in place, Stiles feels like something has locked him there.

 

The next fart is just as deadly, and makes an awful sound as it cracks its way out. He lets out a few more in quick succession, before pulling away. The upset look is gone from his face as he heads towards the door.

 

“Come on, man,” he says, only slight nerves showing through an otherwise happy façade. “We’re gonna be late.”

 

Stiles swears the whole time he’s writing the PSAT exam that he can still smell them.

 

+1

 

As Stiles let himself into the McCall-Argent household – soon to be just McCall – he found himself giddy with excitement. He was really glad that Scott had decided on having two bachelor parties – one for all of their guy friends, and one for just him and Stiles to bro out the night before the wedding. Him and Scott had been through everything together, and it made sense to share Scott’s last night being unmarried with only the two of them.

 

Making his way to the living room, he could already smell the food, and he smiled as he took in the Mexican food that Scott had ordered. The man himself was already lounging on the couch with a beer in hand, and there was a rerun of the last Yankees game on TV. Stiles hated the Yankees, and almost wanted to complain, but then he remembered that this was Scott’s night. He could suffer in silence for his buddy’s sake.

 

As he launched himself onto the cushion directly beside Scott, scooping up a couple nachos from the plate on the way, Scott’s arm almost instinctively came up to rest on his shoulders. The two of them had always been close, and while it had been a long time since they’d cuddled, Stiles smiled and settled in for a good bro night.

 

In the middle of the game, when it became apparent that the Yankees were losing spectacularly and both of them were more than a few beers in, they started reminiscing.

 

They moved backwards in time, talking about college and then high school and even middle school, before it inevitably made it’s way back to their first fight with each other.

 

“Remember that thing we used to do?” Scott said, laughing. He had a half-finished burrito in one hand and another beer in another. “Where I’d make you smell my farts whenever I was mad at you? Man, that was so weird!”

 

“You say that like it was something we only did when we were kids,” Stiles said, mouthing another sip from the bottle in his own hand. “If I recall correctly, we did it more when we were teenagers than anytime else.”

 

“But we _were_ just kids when we were teenagers, man,” Scott said, laughing. “Remember all the other stupid shit we used to do, like listening in on your dads calls and trying to solve crimes for him? Kids!”

 

Stiles shrugged, laughing as well at the memories. “I guess I see your point; and really I don’t think it can get anymore juvenile than farting in each other’s faces.”

 

Scott scoffed. “Please, you never farted in _my_ face. It was always the other way around.”

 

Smiling, Stiles took another sip. “I guess you were just never very forgiving, then.”

 

“Hey! I can be very forgiving; you just deserved it more than I did. It really was awful of us, though.”

 

Stiles shrugged again. “I didn’t really mind all that much; it was just nice to know, once it was done, that I was in your good books again.”

 

“I think I would have forgiven you without you doing any of that, eventually, though,” Scott said musingly, before his eyes caught on the coffee table and he burst out laughing.

 

“What?” Stiles asked, a half smile on his face as he watched his friend lose it.

 

Trying to calm himself down, Scott waved his beer bottle towards the table, managing to force out the words, “if I was mad at you now, this would be the perfect meal for me to eat,” before he lost it again.

 

Glancing towards the Mexican food, Stiles had to admit that his friend was right. There was nachos, and burritos, and tacos and basically all of Scott’s favourite foods that made him more than gassy. Really, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if his friend started ripping it in the next few seconds.

 

His perusal finished, Stiles found himself laughing too. He wasn’t laughing as hard as Scott was, but then again, he always was able to hold his liquor better than his friend.

 

When they both eventually stopped laughing and calmed down, turning back towards the TV and both grabbing another beer, the silence seemed to be less calm than it had been before they’d started talking. Stiles could see Scott fidgeting every once in awhile, adjusting himself in his spot and playing with a pull on his sweatpants.

 

Stiles didn’t have to wait long to hear his thoughts. “Would you actually do it, if I was mad at you? I mean, we’re adults now, it’d be weird.”

 

He shrugged. “It was always weird, man, like you said. But…” he pretended to debate it for a little while. “Probably. I’ve realized that I’ll do pretty much anything to make sure you’re not upset with me, and I’m not really ashamed of that.”

 

He could practically hear Scott’s swallow before he spoke again. “What if… what if I wasn’t mad at you, and I asked you to do it?”

 

Stiles pretended not to understand what was happening, thinking that Scott was just asking for the sake of asking. “What, like, figuratively?”

 

“As in, what if I asked you to get down right now and smell my farts, even though I’m not mad at you. Would you do it?”

 

Realizing that his friend was definitely not joking about this, he actually took real time to think his answer over. “I guess I’d have to say that it’s your bachelor party; I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

 

Words weren’t really necessary, after that. An exchange of looks, and both of them know what’s going to happen next. Switching his beer into his other hand, Scott once again places his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, but instead of using it to cuddle against him, he places it into the center of his back and pushes him. Stiles rises easily with it, sliding down onto the ground in front of the couch. Thinking enough to place his own bottle on the table, he shuffles himself over until he’s kneeling in front of Scott.

 

They’ve certainly never done it with this amount of purpose, so it’s a little awkward as they silently try to decide how best to go through with it. In the end, Scott ends up reclined onto the couch slightly, his legs spread to allow Stiles between them in an almost mockery of a couch blowjob scene. As an added addition, Stiles grabs both of Scott’s legs and coaxes them over his shoulders, before he goes for it.

 

Scott’s sweatpants are old and rather threadbare – he can see the light colour of his boxers in the more worn parts. He doesn’t have the chance to see them very long, though, before he’s placing his chin on the very edge of the couch and pressing his way in.

 

He uses the tip of his nose to feel for the crack, pressing himself against Scott a lot closer than he had any other time they’d done this. He keeps moving closer, knowing that this time was different; they weren’t pretending this was a punishment anymore, though if forced to tell the truth Stiles wouldn’t say that he liked it. He just liked knowing that it made Scott happy with him.

 

A minute later, he felt Scott flex his legs into his neck, pulling him even closer into him, and then the farting began. He must have sat there for a good two hours, just breathing in all Scott gave him whilst his best friend lounged and got drunk above him. The more alcohol and food he consumed, the worse the gas got. The worse it got, the more Scott tightened his legs and pushed Stiles closer. Not that he needed too; as soon as he heard the slight noise warning him that one was coming, he made sure he was nice and close. A few times, he swore that he was even snuffling into them like a pig.

 

It was a no brainer to either of them when Stiles joined Scott in bed that night, hugging around his legs to make sure his face could stay nice and close to his friend during the night, breathing in deeply and getting a good night’s rest.

 

The next day, as Stiles stood beside Scott at the altar and watched him marry the love of his life, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. He’s was happy mainly to see Scott so happy, but he was also pleased with himself, knowing that no matter how much he messed up in the future, he would always have a way to get back into Scott’s good books.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd, so if you notice any errors please feel free to mention them in a comment.
> 
> If you ever want to discuss some kink with me, please feel free to send me an ask or IM on my tumblr @forbiddenkinks-ao3 - I'm almost always around to answer them!
> 
> Underage: the majority of this fic takes place when Scott and Stiles are in primary, middle, and high school, and thus occurs when they are underage.


End file.
